


Stability in one's insanity

by slysociobluefae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Crazy Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Death, Dumbledore's Army, I Don't Even Know, Medical Inaccuracies, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Rage, Revenge, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:44:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slysociobluefae/pseuds/slysociobluefae
Summary: After Sirius's death everything feels wrong. The world isn't what it should be and it seems twisted. Like me. But I think I understand now. I know the truth. But...what should I do about it?





	Stability in one's insanity

Everything’s clear now. Acute. Precise. As the fog which had been clouding my mind for so many years has been chased away.  


They’ve been lying to me. All of them. Hiding the truth, pretending to be people they are not. Accusing me of things I haven’t done just because of the poisonous half-truths which were being given to them on a daily basis.  


But it’s all over now. I can see the truth, see the cracks in their masks. I organized a meeting. For the participants of our old club. They all agreed to come. Why shouldn’t they? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Their Golden Boy wouldn’t harm them.  


It’s funny how they can’t tell the difference between the pawn and the player I became. They stare at me now. Waiting. Wondering what I have to say. Well, they won’t be waiting long.  


In one swift movement I absent-mindedly reach for the closest person. A Brunette. The break from the chains which were circling my soul to this moment gave me pure power – in my mind and body. The girl I’m holding is trying to get free – I’m having none of this. I plunge my hand into her stomach and the strength is so great that I rip a hole in it. I hear a short gasp and know her eyes widen. I feel the flow of blood around my fingers and the tips brush against something. Curiously I push my arm deeper into the shocked body. Its gurgling is lost in the sounds of the horrified screaming of the students. They are petrified – nobody’s even moved to prevent my actions. It’s terribly amusing, and I can’t stop the dark laugh escaping from my chest up through my vocal cords.  


That seems to shock the others from their stupor. They’re trying to help the victim. And suddenly the time, previously like slow-motion, speeds up. My second arm follows the footsteps of the first and I quickly begin to sort through the contents of the girl’s stomach. I clench liver, pancreas and gallbladder in my fists and toss it all behind me. I move my hands up through the amounts of flesh and rip two lungs from the body – spinning on my heel I give them to the boy with a hufflepuff badge behind me. He takes them on instinct and the promptly screams bloody murder. I cackle and turn around. My right arm strikes the body in the chest and I gracefully, in one fluid moment take the heart out. There is so much blood. It makes beautiful patterns on my skin.  


It all happened so fast. The legs which had been holding the dead body upright to this moment buckle beneath the dead weight. The former girl lands on the floor with a thud and redness spreads around her. I clench her heart in both of my hands and it gives a loud squack – it’s been a while since its disconnection from its original habitat and it is still so warm. I move the heart closer to my face and give it a light, experimental lick, then I hug it to my cheek smearing the vital fluid across my face. I take a deep breath and look around. Chaos. Mayhem. Anarchy. All around me. I smile and excitement dances in my eyes.  


Let the fun begin.  


As I run around the room, shredding everyone in my way I can feel the pleasant hum of blood racing through my veins. Their bodies are so soft, so easy to harm. There’s no time to maim them carefully, to make sure they feel every atom of their beings, but that’s okay. Soon they’ll all be dead and that’s enough, for now.  
Their throats have marks in the shape of a hand, and their arms are purple from the bruises. Their insides are being thrown everywhere, and in the room there’s not one inch free of ichor. There are bite marks on them and empty spaces in their faces where something should be.  


It’s a massacre.  


In the room is nothing except me and the pile of bloody meat, cooling off.  


It’s so quiet. I lay on the floor, my clothes are soaked, and my fingers lazily make circles in the puddle of blood. I sigh dreamily, and it’s perfect.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weren’t they all afraid I’d finally snap?


End file.
